Gym Nauseam

Last January, I think it was about two weeks into 2017, I took several deep breaths, sucked in my gut and walked into the gym:

Had a mini anxiety attack before walking in. Tried to talk myself out of it. Have never felt so out of shape in my life. Might have been the fattest one there. But I went. #gym #gymmotivation #gettinghealthy #fitness #fitnessmotivation #scary #self #selflove #workout #workouts #help

A post shared by Jennifer Ball (@happy_hausfrau) on Jan 12, 2017 at 10:05pm PST

Looking back at this picture, I am cringing over all the dog hair on the pants. I'm kinda cringing at the pants themselves (mesh panels aren't typically my thing but clearance racks are so, yeah). Cringing one more time over the dog hair.

I'm also proud. Proud of myself and proud of my son the gym rat who never, ever gave up asking me if I wanted to come with him.

Ten months later and it's a regular thing. Four or five nights a week, sometimes six, I'm there. Usually with my youngest kid, the aforementioned gym enthusiast, quite often with my daughter, and occasionally all alone. We go later in the evening, after dinner. We all like it when it's less crowded. We usually close it down, the last ones to leave (having worked retail for years, I take pains to ensure we are out promptly at closing time...I don't want to be "those customers" who overstay their welcome).

Ten months...in my mind I'd envisioned a whole new me after ten months of regular, moderate-to-strenuous exercise. I thought the weight would simply fall off, revealing the old Jenny, the taut and toned and lean version.

I guess it did, to some extent. I have lost some weight. Of course the boobs went first, and then the paunch began to dwindle. Pretty sure I lost a chin! I still have an ass the size of a Volkswagen but it is definitely less shelf-like.

But there hasn't been a magical transformation. Nobody has said "Wow! You look like you've lost weight!" The clothes I wore last winter have been dragged out again and they all still fit (roomier than before, for sure, but they are definitely not way too big).

A few years ago, this lack of physical evidence would have been discouraging to the point of giving up. Heck, a year ago even. For some reason, though, this time I don't care. I mean, yeah I am a little disappointed that I'm not a size 4, but it hasn't bummed me out to the point of giving up.

You know why? Because despite the still-bountiful butt, despite the fact that I still have beefy arms, I feel good. I feel better than I did ten months ago. I'm sleeping like a baby, my mood is a thousand times better and I think (hope??) it's easier being around me now.

We had our wellness checkup at work a month ago and while I'm still fat, my other numbers were fantastic. Cholesterol, glucose, blood pressure...all in the super healthy range. My resting heart rate is 59 bpm.

I know what I could do to really see a change in the weight. This ain't my first rodeo. I know that I could reduce my daily caloric intake to something drastic and cut out everything delicious. I also know that life is short and if I die tomorrow I'm going to be happy I had a piece of pumpkin pie last week, a martini on Friday night and some popcorn at the movies with my kids on Saturday afternoon.

I'm at the age where the metabolism slows down. I'm also at the age where I give less of a crap about stuff that bugged me a few years ago.

When I look at that picture, I can recall exactly how I was feeling that night: weighed down with insecurity, self-loathing and oh my gosh so much sadness. I don't feel that way anymore.

The weight may not be falling off, but I've already lost a ton.


*I've decided to challenge myself and do the NaBloPoMo, National Blog Posting Month, and write a blog post every single day of November. I figure it's the kick in the ass I need to get writing again. I've made this one with about 1 hours left of November 5th, so you can see how well it's going so far. 

Stay tuned. And thank you for being here.